As days begin to turn into weeks since my son’s passing, I find myself staring into the face of two realities:
- I feel closer to eternity than I ever have before. My spirit seems to have a deeper awareness that this life on earth is fragile, that my own physical life will turn to dust before I know it, and that the glories and beauty and wonder and joy of eternity as God created it is the greater reality that I belong to. My son is already there and somehow this makes the scent of heaven seem so very close.
- I also find myself, predictably, wrestling with God. While I have prayed for my son’s healing for over five years, I never hoped nor expected that it would come in this fashion. This leaves my heart tenderly frustrated and, on some level, needing to “have it out” with God. On an emotional level, my heart cries out: “God, what is wrong with you?” “Your program is not the best.” Your care for me is remiss.” “Your response to my prayers falls far, far short for one who supposedly loves me deeply.” Please do not send me any encouragements to trust God in response to reading this. I am not speaking of a head-level reality, simply a heart that cannot fully grasp the way life is experienced in a broken world. In my head, I already know that this experience of wrestling with God will ultimately lead my heart to a deeper place where I will experience an even more profound sense that God is the most trustworthy Papa that I can imagine and ultimately I will sink even deeper into His embrace. But, for the moment, and as long as this process takes, my heart will wrestle.
Yet even today, as I write this, the taste of eternity overshadows the heart-wrestlings bringing a very real sense of peace in the midst.
As always, thank you so much for your support and love. That call of eternity does stir deeply in Brooks and me pressing us toward all that God has put on our hearts to do… and with your strength beside us, we will continue doing just that.